


on the rooftop

by fruti2flutie



Series: wish upon a shining diamond [3]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Disney, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7932871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruti2flutie/pseuds/fruti2flutie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boy’s lips quirk. “Yeah, doesn’t matter to me.” He strolls around the room, peering under Junhui’s books on his desk and past the hanging clothes in his closet. “All I’m looking for is my shadow. I saw it fly in here somewhere.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	on the rooftop

**Author's Note:**

> if it wasnt obvious, im naming these fics after songs in the particular movies. peter pan doesnt have a lot of vocal tracks, so this is instrumental. also, feel free to take this as a platonic story or romantic story, interpret however ur comfortable w/!!! enjoy!!!!
> 
> (*peter pan)

The time is 2:13 A.M., three hours before the sun is scheduled to rise and right in the middle of Junhui’s nine-hour beauty rest. The place is Junhui’s bedroom, the moon illuminating the floor from the now open window. And Junhui, bless his poor soul, is not awake enough for this.

“Kid,” he starts grouchily, rubbing the sand from his eyes, “are you trying to break into my house? Or are you late for your elementary school dance recital? Time and place, my guy. Please, make this easy for me.”

“Wow, savage,” says the boy in olive green tights, pointed-toe shoes, with a red feather in his matching sailboat hat. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m looking for my shadow. Have you seen it anywhere?”

Junhui stares. He stares. He slaps himself in the face to make sure he’s not dreaming, and when both his cheek and hand tingle he blurts out, “Excuse me?”

“Look, old man, I’m not asking for much—”

“ _Old man_!?” shrieks Junhui, affronted. “I’m only seventeen!”

The boy’s lips quirk. “Yeah, doesn’t matter to me.” He strolls around the room, peering under Junhui’s books on his desk and past the hanging clothes in his closet. “All I’m looking for is my shadow. I saw it fly in here somewhere.”

Junhui stands up, grabs the boy by the shoulders, and makes him sit still on his bed. “Okay, kid, I have no idea what nonsense you’re trying to convince me of. Tell me what your parents’ phone number is, and I’ll be more than happy to call them for you.”

The boy sighs loudly. “Chan.” He looks up at Junhui, dark hair splayed over his forehead. “My name’s Chan, so stop calling me ‘kid’.”

“Fine, _Chan_ , where are your parents?” Junhui questions sternly. “Also, I’m Wen Junhui. If you call me ‘old man’ again, I’ll have to throw you out the window.”

Chan shrugs. Resuming his search, he takes a jab at Junhui’s chest and proclaims, “That’s how I got in anyway. And I don’t believe in parents.”

Junhui scoffs, “You ‘don’t believe in parents’? What, are they in the same category as vampires and fairies?”

Chan glares at him, and in the minimal light Junhui swears that there’s a _literal_ sparkle in his eye. “I don’t know what to tell you about vampires, but fairies are _definitely_ real.”

“Sure they are,” says Junhui, placatingly. Making to stand, he joins Chan in search of his... shadow, which is more ridiculous the more he ponders it, but it makes the boy hum, pleased. He turns on the light to make things easier. “How’d you get here, Chan? You said you broke in through my window, right?”

“It was _open_.”

“Sure it was,” says Junhui, and Chan is obviously getting fed up with his sass. Junhui spots rustling underneath his bed. When he goes to check everything goes still, and he frowns. He can barely see the lost socks that have fallen victim to the dust bunnies. Had it always been so dark under here?

“Did you find it?” Chan asks, looking under the bed with Junhui. He lets out a squeal of delight, and the pitch blackness fades as Chan fumbles over his two feet. “Close the window! Block the door!”

The urgency in Chan’s voice causes Junhui to readily comply, and when he’s finished he isn’t at all prepared for the black silhouette that’s perfectly Chan-shaped whizzing past him. Baffled, Junhui trips and falls onto the ground, scrambling back until he hits the wall. “What the—”

“My shadow!” Chan screams frantically.

“You were _serious_!?”

Chan is flying around the room — _literally_ , zooming around in the air and bouncing off the walls. “Why would I lie about this?” he screeches, chasing down his shadow that is nearly as fast as light. “What are you doing? Help me catch it!”

The first thought that pops in Junhui’s head is _how_ , and it’s a reasonable one to have. Before he can even register what he’s grabbing, Junhui has his hands on an empty laundry basket and is joining Chan in his outrageous chase on foot. The shadow darts left and right, not taking a moment to stop, and Junhui frustratedly curses when it (somehow) knocks over his multiple language textbooks. In a spur of the moment decision Junhui lunges forward and covers the shadow with the basket, using his body to keep it steady.

“I think I got it!”

Chan scurries over and grins, back on two feet. “Awesome!” he cheers, clapping Junhui’s shoulder. “So! Can you help get it back on me?”

Everything Chan has said to him thus far is very convincing evidence that he is dreaming. They just chased a _shadow_ , for crying out loud. Junhui stares, open-mouthed, after he processes the request until Chan pinches his cheek.

“Ouch! What was that for!?”

“Proof you’re not asleep,” Chan says, like he’s some mindreader. “I am very real, than you very much.”

“Unfortunately,” grumbles Junhui, shaking his head. He sits on top of the basket, setting his elbows on his knees. “So? How in the world do I get—” Cue vague gesture underneath him, where the shadow struggles to stay still, “—back to you?”

“I’d try sewing it,” suggests Chan.

At this point, it’s worth a shot. Junhui tiptoes out of his room to look for a sewing kit, the one his mother uses when he tears at his dress pants. He finds it underneath rolls of tape and coupons in a kitchen drawer. When he comes back to his room Junhui discovers Chan, balancing on one foot atop the basket, flipping through his notebooks for school. He sees Junhui and grins.

“Took you long enough,” huffs Chan, tossing the notebook and hopping off the basket, holding it in place with his elbow. “Okay, let’s do this thing.”

Somehow, Junhui sews Chan’s shadow back onto his feet. Chan sits on the edge of Junhui’s bed, and Junhui kneels on the ground. Junhui only uses the needle, no thread, and it almost feels like a game of pretend. The shadow doesn’t feel tangible, but it gives Junhui chills when his hand tries holding onto it. Chan is by no means quiet during the whole process, constantly bombarding Junhui with a random assortment of questions, like he’s some kind of survey.

Junhui answers to the best of his ability, but for a couple he can’t even attempt to. “I mean,” he starts, “I don’t know _why_ cats like to knock things over all the time, but I’m pretty sure they’re evil. Yet to be proven, though.”

Chan laughs. “You’re fun to talk to,” he says, wiggling his toes as Junhui sits back, finished. “There’s so much you know!” The shadow is right where it should be, and Chan trots around the room and delightedly watches it follow. He glances at Junhui, mischievous. “Do you wanna fly to Neverland with me?”

“What did you say?” Junhui checks the time — nearly three a.m., and the clock is ticking. “Neverland? What— Where is that?”

“Home,” says Chan. “It’s home.”

Junhui isn’t sure if he has school in the morning, because the weeks are going by so fast and he honestly doesn’t remember what day it is. Today could be Saturday, for all he knows, and he could have his piano lesson in the morning and his wushu class at noon. He hasn’t thought about it much, not since Chan’s gotten here — what Junhui plans on doing when he falls back asleep and wakes up in a few hours. While being with Chan he’s forgotten about his deadlines, his grades, his responsibilities.

Maybe Junhui needs this.

“How are we getting there?”

 

 

 

 

Junhui muffles a scream when Chan lets Tinkerbell sprinkle him with pixie dust. Chan hasn’t done this before, inviting an outsider to Neverland; Tink is surely miffed at him for paying more attention to the new boy. Junhui flies easily, though, hands flapping unnecessarily as he begins to float — he’s a natural. Tinkerbell chimes merrily as she giggles. Outside, above rooftops and dark houses, the air is warm. Chan reaches out for Junhui’s hand, an anchor of sorts, an act that surprises even himself. Junhui grips his hand tightly as they follow the North Star.

And they soar.


End file.
